Who Says I Can't Handle It? I

Well, I Don't Have Much Competition Here." "you Don't Have Much Competition Anywhere.

Then Something Unexpected Happens. At Least, I Don't Expect It Because I Don't Think Of District 12 As A Place That Cares About Me. But A Shift Has Occurred Since I Stepped Up To Take Prim's Place, And Now It Seems I Have Become Someone Precious. At First One, Then Another, Then Almost Every Member Of The Crowd Touches The Three Middle Fingers Of Their Left Hand To Their Lips And Holds It Out To Me. It Is An Old And Rarely Used Gesture Of Our District, Occasionally Seen At Funerals. It Means Thanks, It Means Admiration, It Means Good-bye To Someone You Love.

Sometimes When Things Are Particularly Bad, My Brain Will Give Me A Happy Dream. [...] When I Fully Awaken, I'm Momentarily Comforted. I Try To Hold On To The Peaceful Feeling Of The Dream, But It Quickly Slips Away, Leaving Me Sadder Than Ever.

Maybe I'll Be Like The Man In The Hanging Tree Still Waiting For An Answer.' Gale Who I Have Never Seen Cry Has Tears In His Eyes. To Keep Them From Spilling Over. I Reach Forward And Press My Lips Against His. We Taste Of Heat, Ashes And Misery.

It's There. The White Rose Among The Dried Flowers In The Vase. Shriveled And Fragile, But Holding On To That Unnatural Perfection Cultivated In Snows Greenhouse. I Grab The Vase, Stumble Down To The Kitchen, And Throw Its Contents Into The Embers. As The Flowers Flare Up, A Burst Of Blue Flame Envelops The Rose And Devours It. Fire Beats Roses Again.